


Lebanon

by Otrera



Series: Lebanon [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Sam Winchester, Bookstores, Curtain Fic, Domestic Sam Winchester, Episode: s14e13 Lebanon, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Queer Sam Winchester, its only kind of a curtain fic. like it has the same vibe., not actually set during this ep but it inspired me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-26 09:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17743763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otrera/pseuds/Otrera
Summary: Sam meets someone in town.





	1. Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://otrera-kicks-ass.tumblr.com/post/182714103735/idk-sam-needs-a-cute-bf-in-the-town-idk) post. Thank you so much to my beta, Wearingdeantoprom! Love you, dear!

Sam slowed his run to a walk, panting and wiping sweat off his forehead. He took a long drink from his water bottle and looked around absentmindedly, trying to pinpoint where exactly he was. He was trying a new running route this morning. He wasn’t often in this part of town. Across the street, he spotted a little building with a sign declaring _Godfrey Books: Used Books Store_.

Sam checked his watch; he still had a few minutes before he had to get back to the bunker. He waited for a few cars to pass and crossed the street, pulling a hairband off his wrist and tying his sweaty hair up in a ponytail.

A bell jingled as he opened the door. The interior of the shop was cozy, with a few tables and beanbags in one corner and bookshelves in neat rows. Near the front of the shop was a counter and a cash register, behind which sat a man reading a book.

The man at the counter looked up when Sam walked in. He had a bit of scruff and a kind face. When he saw Sam, his mouth dropped open like a guppy, although he quickly closed it and sat up straight. “Welcome to Godfrey’s Books, is there anything I can help you with?”

 _He’s kind of cute,_ Sam’s brain said. _Shut up,_ Sam replied. “No, I’m just browsing, thanks.”

The man went back to his book and cast a few furtive glances in Sam’s direction as he wandered through the shelves.

Sam found himself in the classics section. He picked up a copy of _Medea of Euripides_ in the original Greek. It was well-loved; the spine was broken and the pages were worn. He dallied for a bit, then carried it up to the counter.

“You read Greek?” asked the man as he checked Sam out. “I don’t know it yet, but I want to learn.”

“I’m okay,” said Sam. “My Latin is better.”

“Are you on Duolingo?”

“No, I learned it when I was a kid.”

“Oh, cool. My Latin’s alright, I guess. I started in high school and picked it up again in my junior year of college.”

“Where did you go to college?”

He handed Sam his book and his receipt. “George Mason.”

“What was your major?”

“Mythology and folklore, with a minor in creative writing. I never really got into the story writing aspect of creative writing, but I've been writing poetry since I was a kid, and I published an anthology of poetry a couple years ago. It's mostly about -” He blushed and stopped. “Sorry, I didn't mean to ramble. You only asked what my major was.”

“No, it's fine. But I do have to leave in -” Sam checked his watch. “Oh. Now, actually. Do you work tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I could come in again tomorrow and we could talk then.” The man's eyebrows rose, and Sam hastened to add, “If you want to, I mean.”

“No, yeah, totally. Sorry, people don't usually want to talk about poetry. Same bat time, same bat place?”

Sam huffed out a surprised laugh. “See you then.”

By the time Sam got back to the bunker, Dean was making breakfast and instructing Jack on how not to burn the pancakes.

“You are way to happy for someone who just went running for fun,” Dean remarked.

Sam held up the copy of _Medea of Euripides_. “I got a book.”

“Looks like you found it in a dumpster.”

“I got it at a used bookstore. It's a few blocks from the thrift store.”

“Cool. Hey, go shower, you stink.”

“You do,” said Jack. “I can smell you over the bacon.”

By the time he’d showered and wandered back into the kitchen, Dean, Jack, and Cas were eating breakfast.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Morning, Cas.”

Sam grabbed a fruit smoothie out of the fridge, fixed his plate, and sat down next to Jack.

“I understand you went to the library this morning?” Cas said.

“Book store,” Sam corrected, “but yeah. I think I’m going to go again tomorrow morning. The guy working there wanted to talk about poetry.”

“This is like Mick all over again,” said Dean. “Except this time you managed to find someone even nerdier than you.”

Sam bit his lip at the thought of Mick Davies, whom he’d had a slight crush on before the Men of Letters killed him. Come to think of it, the man from the book shop shared a lot of the same characteristics as Mick - dark hair, light eyes, scruff. Huh.

“Sam?”

Sam shook his head to clear it. “Ah, sorry, what was that, Cas?”

“I asked what the book shop employee’s name is.”

Sam frowned. “I don’t know. I forgot to ask.”

“Guess you’ll find out tomorrow,” said Dean.

* * *

 “You came back!” exclaimed the book shop man when Sam entered the store the next day. He seemed genuinely surprised, even though it had been Sam’s idea to meet again.

“Yeah,” said Sam. “I forgot to introduce myself yesterday. I’m Sam Campbell, I live on the edge of town.”

The book shop man shook his hand. “Matt Godfrey.”

“Godfrey? Do you own the store?”

Matt beamed. “Yep. She’s my own little brainchild.”

“That’s pretty impressive, to run your own business and publish books on the side.”

“Well, the poems don’t really take up too much time. And I only published the one book, so…” He shrugged.

“What’s your book called?”

“Anthology of Fears.”

Sam’s brain stuttered. “Isn’t that by H.W. Barker?”

Matt turned bright red. “You’ve read it?”

“Uh, yeah. My friend gave me a copy for Christmas.”

“It’s my pseudonym. The _H_ and _W_ are my parents’ middle initials and Barker is a dog I had when I was a kid. I was going to name him Parker, but he was a dog, so I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

Sam laughed. “That’s crazy. Small world, I guess.”

“I guess. So… did you like it?”

“I loved it. It was - I could relate to it, y’know? Most of it, at least. Especially ‘Out’.”

“Are you…?”

“Bi.”

Matt nodded understandingly. “Pan.”

“I haven’t really told anyone,” Sam admitted. “I think one of my friends might know, but neither of us have said anything outright.”

“I’m only out to my best friend Dawn and my ex, but they’re the ones who helped me realize it in the first place, so I’m not sure if they count.” His eyes moved downcast. “That's why my ex is my ex, actually. He didn't want to date someone who wasn't out.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “But the past is the past, and we ended up friends anyway. You wanna go sit down?”

They moved over to the beanbags, Sam doing his best to fold his legs underneath him.

“So which poem was your favourite?”

“I don't know,” said Sam. “They're all really beautiful. I guess…” He tipped his head back in thought. “‘When the World Broke?’ I wasn’t quite sure what it was about, but it stuck me.”

Matt mouthed the title of the poem, his brows furrowing. “I don’t remember it,” he admitted. “Do you know any of the, like, keywords?”

“Uhh, _ladybugs flew/to the sound of death_ … um, _as trust died_ …”

“Oh!” Matt snapped his fingers. “I know which one you’re talking about. Yeah, that one’s about a fight I had with my mom.”

“What’s the significance of the ladybugs?”

Matt grinned. “Okay, lemme give you a bit of background. So, for that poem, I wrote in a creative writing class in college and the assignment was to write about two things that seem unrelated and - well, relate them. So, I grew up near some farms and the farmers would spread ladybugs throughout their farms so they would eat other bugs that would harm their crops. And the ladybugs would fly around and we always had a bunch of ladybugs at our house because of it.

“So me and Mom got into this huge fight, right? And we’re both mad and I’m throwing things and somehow I knock the light fixture off the ceiling and this _swarm_ of ladybugs flies out of it and we both start freaking out - cause, like, what the hell, y’know?”

“Oh my god,” Sam laughed. “How old were you?”

“I dunno. Like, fifteen-sixteenish? It was a disaster.”

Matt was pleasantly easy to talk to, and there seemed to be no shortage of topics for them to talk about. The discussion flowed from poetry to classic literature to Greek mythology, stopping only twice for Matt to help some customers. By the time Sam thought to check his watch, they’d been talking for over an hour.

“Oh, crap, I have to go,” said Sam, standing up.

“Aw, bummer. Hey -” He darted over to the counter to grab a post-it note. He scribbled something on it and thrust it at Sam. “Um, I might be reading this totally wrong, but you’re, like, really cute, and, uh, here.”

Sam took the post-it note. Matt had given him his phone number.

“I mean, no pressure for you to call or anything, but, I dunno, maybe we could talk some more later. Or you could just throw it away and never think about me again. Y’know. Whatever.”

Sam stood frozen, staring at the post-it note in his hand. He was torn - Matt was so… normal. Apple pie life. That had never worked out for Sam in the past, but now things were different. He had a permanent home base. He and Dean were regulars in town. They had _routines_.

He looked back up at Matt, who was scuffing his feet on the carpet.

“Yeah, I - I’ll call when I get a chance,” Sam said. “Ah - can I still come by tomorrow?”

Matt beamed and nodded. “I’m here every morning except Sunday, so feel free to come by whenever.”

Sam smiled hesitantly. “I’ll call you tonight.”

As he left the shop, Sam stopped and looked through the big front window. Matt waved at him. Sam waved back and jogged off, grinning whole-heartedly for the first time in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: both of the poems Sam and Matt talk about are real poems that I wrote! Also the ladybug poem fight is based on a true story.


	2. Chapter 2

Matt glanced up from his book as the bell above the door jingled, then sat straight up in shock as the hottest guy he’d ever seen walked inside. His tank top did a very nice job of showing off his arms, and his hair was just long enough to be tied into the ponytail at the base of his neck. Matt realized his mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut.

“Welcome to Godfrey’s Books, is there anything I can help you with?”

“No, I’m just browsing, thanks.”

Matt nodded and went back to his book, allowing himself a few more surreptitious glances at the man. He lingered by the classics. Apparently he’d found one he liked, because he came to the checkout counter and pulled out his wallet.

It was a Greek copy of _Medea of Euripides_. Bilingual, then, and maybe some sort of scholar? If he was reading it for fun, then his interests lined up nicely with Matt’s own.

“You read Greek?” he asked conversationally. “I don’t know it yet, but I want to learn.”

“I’m okay,” the man said. “My Latin is better.”

Trilingual! Matt definitely had a soft spot for academic types. “Are you on Duolingo?” he asked, thinking maybe they could exchange usernames and get to know each other through languages.

“No, I learned it when I was a kid.”

“Oh, cool. My Latin’s alright, I guess. I started in high school and picked it up again in my junior year of college.”

“Where did you go to college?”

He handed the man his receipt. “George Mason.”

“What was your major?”

“Mythology and folklore, with a minor in creative writing. I never really got into the story writing aspect of creative writing, but I've been writing poetry since I was a kid, and I published an anthology of poetry a couple years ago. It's mostly about -” He stopped himself and felt a blush crawl up his cheeks. Oh, no he was doing it again! “Sorry, I didn't mean to ramble. You only asked what my major was.”

The other man shook his head. “No, it's fine. But I do have to leave in -” He checked his watch and frowned. “Oh. Now, actually. Do you work tomorrow morning?”

Where was this going? “Yeah, sure.”

“I could come in again tomorrow and we could talk then.” Matt’s eyebrows rose in surprise and skepticism and the man added, “If you want to, I mean.”

 _Please! Please come back!_ Matt thought to himself. Out loud, he said, “No, yeah, totally. Sorry, people don't usually want to talk about poetry. Same bat time, same bat place?”

The man laughed and said, “See you then.”

Matt was distracted for the whole rest of the day. He hoped everyone would assume he was being his normal flighty self, but it didn’t work, as his friend and coworker Dawn remarked on it when she came into the shop that afternoon.

“You’re even more distracted than usual, what gives?”

Matt shrugged and fiddled with his rubix cube. “Nothing.”

She put her hands on her hips and flipped her short bleached hair out of her eyes. “One word answers? Now I _know_ something’s wrong. C’mon. Spill.”

“Nothing’s _wrong_.”

“That means something must be uber right. Hmm…” She gasped. “Did you meet someone?”

“No!”

“Oh my god, you totally did! Tell me everything.”

Matt sighed, knowing that there was no way to avoid it now. “This guy came in this morning and we talked about college and he was really cute. And that’s it.”

“How cute? What’s he look like?”

“Well, I think he must be a runner, because when he came in he was wearing a tank-top and athletic shorts and he was pretty sweaty. And his hair was in this ponytail, not like a long one, just a little one.”

Dawn nodded approvingly. “Cute.”

“And he was tall. Like, _tall_ tall. Over six feet. And he’s smart, too, he knows Greek and Latin and I think he likes poetry, because he asked if he could come in again tomorrow to talk about it with me -”

“What did you say?”

“Well, I said yes, obviously.”

“Matt, that’s awesome! I’m so happy for you.”

He held up both hands in a _s_ _top_ gesture. “Whoa, slow down with the congratulations. We’re just talking about poetry. I don’t even know if he likes guys.”

“He wears his hair in a ponytail and he likes poetry. I think it’s a safe bet he does.”

“Stereotype enforcer,” he accused, but it held no heat.

“You’ll be changing your tune after tomorrow.”

“God, I hope so.”

* * *

 The next day, Matt would have been lying to himself if he said he expected the man to come back again. People rarely came in the shop twice in a row (with a few exceptions), much less twice in a row specifically to talk to him. It was for this reason that when the man walked through the door, he blurted, “You came back!”

“Yeah,” said the man. “I forgot to introduce myself yesterday. I’m Sam Campbell, I live on the edge of town.”

Matt shook Sam’s hand. “Matt Godfrey.”

“Godfrey? Do you own the store?”

Matt beamed. “Yep. She’s my own little brainchild.”

“That’s pretty impressive, to run your own business and publish books on the side.”

“Well, the poems don’t really take up too much time. And I only published the one book, so…” He shrugged.

“What’s your book called?”

“Anthology of Fears.”

Sam frowned. “Isn’t that by H.W. Barker?”

Matt turned bright red in horror. “You’ve read it?”

“Uh, yeah. My friend gave me a copy for Christmas.”

“It’s my pseudonym. The _H_ and _W_ are my parents’ middle initials and Barker is a dog I had when I was a kid. I was going to name him Parker, but he was a dog so I saw an opportunity and took it.”

 _You’re rambling!_ his brain yelled. Fortunately, Sam didn’t seem to mind, as he laughed and said, “That’s crazy. Small world, I guess.”

“I guess. So… did you like it?”

“I loved it. It was - I could relate to it, y’know? Most of it, at least. Especially ‘Out’.”

‘Out’ was about coming out. Had Dawn been right? “Are you…?”

“Bi.”

“Pan.” Matt’s heart thudded; that was only his third time coming out. He might as well, though; Sam had read his poetry, and God knew all his poems were gay.

“I haven’t really told anyone,” Sam admitted. “I think one of my friends might know, but neither of us have said anything outright.”

“I’m only out to my best friend Dawn and my ex, but they’re the ones who helped me realize it in the first place, so I’m not sure if they count.” Matt looked downwards, remembering Thomas. “That's why my ex is my ex, actually. He didn't want to date someone who wasn't out.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Matt shook his head. “But the past is the past, and we ended up friends anyway. You wanna go sit down?”

They moved over to the beanbags, and Matt asked, ““So which poem was your favourite?”

“I don't know,” said Sam. “They're all really beautiful. I guess…” He tipped his head back. “‘When the World Broke?’ I wasn’t quite sure what it was about, but it stuck me.”

Matt mouthed the title of the poem, his brows furrowing. “I don’t remember it,” he admitted. “Do you know any of the, like, keywords?”

“Uhh, _ladybugs flew/to the sound of death_ … um, _as trust died_ …”

“Oh!” Matt snapped his fingers. That was one of the ones he’d written in college. “I know which one you’re talking about. Yeah, that one’s about a fight I had with my mom.”

“What’s the significance of the ladybugs?”

Matt grinned. He explained the fight he’d had with his mom and the chaos that had stemmed from the broken light fixture.

Sam laughed. “Oh my god. How old were you?”

“I dunno. Like, fifteen-sixteenish? It was a disaster.”

Sam laughed again, and it was a sight to behold. He threw his whole head back, hair shifting out of his face and revealing his dimpled smile.

They talked for well over an hour, and not once did Sam ask him to stop rambling, ask him to change the subjects, or even express displeasure about anything Matt said or did. When Sam said he had to go, Matt was genuinely disappointed.

“Aw, bummer. Hey -” He darted over to the counter to grab a post-it note. He scribbled his phone number on it, hoping against hope that this lucky streak wasn’t about to break. He thrust the post-it at Sam. “Um, I might be reading this totally wrong, but you’re, like, really cute, and, uh, here.”

Sam took the post-it and stared at it.

“I mean, no pressure for you to call or anything, but, I dunno, maybe we could talk some more later. Or you could just throw it away and never think about me again. Y’know. Whatever.”

Sam hadn’t stopped staring at his phone number. Matt’s heart shrivelled; he had obviously misread the situation and imagined whatever chemistry he’d thought they’d had.

“Yeah, I - I’ll call when I get a chance,” Sam said, and every cell in Matt’s body shrieked in delight.. “Ah - can I still come by tomorrow?”

Matt beamed and nodded. “I’m here every morning except Sunday, so feel free to come by whenever.”

Sam smiled, his eyes betraying his shyness. “I’ll call you tonight.”

Matt waved at him through the window as he left, and Sam waved back. As Sam jogged out of sight, Matt clutched his chest and spun in a circle, feeling like he was a teenager all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed Sam and Matt as much as I did! If you have any suggestions regarding other things I could write in this verse, let me know in the comments or send me an ask on my tumblr (otrera-kick-ass).

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: both of the poems Sam and Matt talk about are real poems that I wrote! Also the ladybug poem fight is based on a true story.


End file.
